


God of Sarcasm

by TariTheNurse



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Death, Fighting, Fluff, Gen, Hate, Negative criticism, Swearing, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Summary: One-shot for a challenge on Tumblr, based on prompt (bold in text).Reader is ehanced and has to learn to control their magic. By Loki who is acting like a pompous bastard.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	God of Sarcasm

The blue sparkles flare from your fingertips to condense into a blossom. _So pretty._ The light flickers as soon as your mind gets distracted by the appearance of the magic. Desperately summoning the Focus within, you try to re-establish the flow and sustain the illusion, but in your rush, you cause the blossom to flare up in an explosion that sends you hurling backwards into the mound of pillows strewn about for just this reason.

“Tsk,” the cold voice utters beyond your closed eyes.

Gods, you hate that sound. Day in and day out you have been training under the condescending yet watchful eyes of Loki at this cottage far from anyone and anything. Ever since your parents realized your skills, they have pestered the Avengers to take you in, train you. Well, Superheroes are busy. Rather than have Wanda or Doctor Strange become your mentor, you are stuck with a pompous bastard on parole.

“Get up!”

At least he can’t see your eyes roll behind the lids, but you know delaying the inevitable will only make him worse to be around, so you get onto your feet. _How much longer today?_ It feels like you have been stuck in the barren room for ages…unfortunately the clock on the wall claims it’s only been a few hours.

“I expect more of you,” Loki sneers, “a simple _Illusion_ yet you manage to mess it up? At this rate you will _never_ even master Projection!”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to say anything he could take the wrong way. Sure, the others claim that he is good now…better safe than sorry, though.

_Okay, calm down._ A slow inhalation to fill your lungs before exhaling through your mouth in a carefully controlled pace which you follow with your arm as you stretch it in front of you with a bent wrist, fingers delicately pointing to the floor. _Flower from earth._ As if stirring slowly, you imagine holding a seed between you fingers to soak up the energy around it needed to grow (here, you flip you palm up to present the still invisible seed)._ Grow and glow._ The words aren’t an incantation but simply a way to remember the movements, and again you feel the tingle of magic connect each outstretched finger and condense into the flower from your dreams. You do not dare to look at the result.

“Finally. Keep holding it,” Loki hisses.

You can hear your own breathing and the soft whistling from the air conditioning. There’s no hint of what the greasy-haired maniac is doing. _Probably about to scare the shit out of me._ You have half a mind to drop the magic and look for him…problem is it would make him insult you for the millionth time and you really aren’t sure how much more of it you can take. The only option is to keep calm and allow the Focus to survive anything Loki will throw at you.

Despite stalwart resolution, the Illusion falters and fades when the building shakes from an explosion and something heavy barrels into you. You try to get your bearings amidst scattered pillows, dust, and the green cape Loki insists on wearing. The Asgardian has thrown himself at you to shield you from the blast without a care for the shrapnel.

“Why did you _do_ that?!” Your voice is shrill with anger and shock. “There’s a _billion_ ways to test my Focus but _tha_-?!”

A cold hand clamps your mouth shut. Green eyes with a hint of red give you a onceover before scanning the surroundings. “This was _not_ my doing, pet.”

You nod demurely. “Mm.” _Wait, pet??_

“Now be quiet.”

It’s not like you have much of a choice with his hand still covering almost half your face. That’s when you realize just how the two of your are positioned, chest to chest as he sort of straddles you, but because he still has worried about covering your legs…well, pelvis to pelvis is also a way to get to know someone.

You don’t have time to worry about it, though. A creaking, groaning noise of tree splintering makes both of you look up to see the ceiling caving in. Without thinking, you grab hold of Loki in the hopes of rolling both of you out of the way. With a crash a mass of debris and limbs lands where you just were, and the god is off of you with his daggers magically appearing together with his full armour.

He deflects the spear flung from the dust cloud, returning the greeting with a steely weapon of his own. You see what he does next only because he has shown you each part of the gesture that calls forth a host of clones of him and you perched on any surface of the place. _Why not just…lock them up with magic?_ In the heat of the moment your brain forgets what class of magic Loki excels at until the laughter of the intruder makes your skin crawl.

“Trickery won’t help you, snake,” the voice cackles, “I see through your lights and smokescreens.”

You can make out the shape of a man most pro wrestlers would be envious of.

“Then make a move,” all the Loki’s in the room cajole.

The ground shudders by the weight as the enemy leaps into action, lunging to the left at the last moment. Steel meets steel, proving that he faultlessly has picked out the real Asgardian even though you were fooled (which in reality isn’t unheard of because the asshole loves to mock your lack of skills by showing off).

The man is partially naked, the broad chest exposed to display a blond patch of hair and a few scars from injuries that with any fairness should have killed him. His trousers are not unlike those harem pants that were all the rage (again) a few summers back but tied together around the calves before disappearing in a pair of heavy boots. Whoever this guy is, he has faith in his own abilities. Regardless, the attack is a glancing blow, allowing Loki to slip sideways in an attempt to skirt the attacker.

“Impressive.” Of course Loki still sounds mocking but he drops half of the Illusion, leaving only the copies of you milling around.

You get the hint. Leaping into action, you mimic the imagined crowd in the hopes of being harder to target.

Too bad it doesn’t work.

As if in slow motion, the attacker grabs the horn on Loki’s helmet, yanking it harshly backwards and causing the normally slippery guy to go flying into a wall that absolutely isn’t an Illusion. Meanwhile the intruder has continued the spin to his advantage – using the momentum he hurls the spear towards you. It’s only a perfectly aimed knife that saves you even if the larger weapon skewers your sweater and pins you to the floor. Heart frozen in your throat, but speed back to normal, you try to get free by yanking at the oversized “nail” with sweaty hands. _No good._

The men are in each others’ faces again, both formidable fighters using the surroundings to their advantages. Still, it’s an unbalanced match because the slimmer of them keeps trying to draw the opponent away from you, forcing the enemy to have his back towards you. The enemy has no one to protect. His jabs and sweeps are methodical, each step countering the effort Loki makes to keep you out of the danger zone.

_He can’t keep going like that!_ Bitter realization sears your stomach.

Wiggling and twisting, you crawl out of the sweater and onto the knees where instinct takes over and brandishes your hands in a flurry of weaving movements. Blue sparks shoot from the fingers, forming a rope as they speed towards the unidentified enemy and snake around his wrists. You feel the pull from him through the conjured restraint and have to use physical strength to hold him back.

_Focus! _Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight to follow all the instructions Loki has been drilling you with. There’s a grunt of surprise.

_Must…use my…Focus!_ But the magic breaks, leaving you tumbling backwards once more.

“No!” Shooting back up, your breath stops at the sight of the two men apparently embracing each other. “No…no…”

Only a fool would think they actually are hugging. _Did he…?_ If the attacker has managed to kill Loki, then you are done for too, and your heart screams with a million fears as the naked arms let go of the smaller man. _Crap._ But the man goes limp, sliding to his knee with the groan of the dying. Loki, now visible, pulls out a blade from between the ribs.

“A Conjuration…” Unreadable eyes study your face and hands before returning to the situation before him. “I’m impressed.”

_As if._ Turning to find an intact pillow, you feel the bitterness well up. Loki doesn’t give compliments. Loki doesn’t praise efforts, only perfection, and the attempt to bind the attacker had not lasted.

_Yeah, well…I’m proud. _“**Even though that’s dripping with sarcasm, and definitely isn’t genuine, I’m gonna take it.**”

“[Y/N]…I push you because I _know_ what your potential is, and I have faith in you.” Somehow, he’s come to stand right in front of you, hands clasping your shoulders gently. “I mean it. You are amazing and it’s because of your magic that I could strike him down.” _Oh._ “Thank you, my dear.”

_First pet and now dear? And he…? _Nothing makes sense, least of all when the Asgardian tilts your face up by your chin and kisses you hesitantly. No logic. Only a warm tingle, but this time it’s in your chest and has nothing to do with magic and you find yourself giving in to it.


End file.
